


The Silent Prince

by Allie_enigma



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Assassination, Assassination Attempt(s), Being Human - Freeform, Dark Past, Darkness, Gen, Graphic Description, Hidden Life, Implied Violence, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, In The Shadows, Isolation, POV First Person, Paris (City), Psychological Warfare, Psychology, Self Repression, Self-Destruction, Self-Hatred, lonely
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2020-12-17 05:42:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21049241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allie_enigma/pseuds/Allie_enigma
Summary: They say everyone has a fate. Something predetermined. Long decided before you even place a single sole on this harsh wasteland that we call Earth.All around the city, shadows creep, people vanish without trace and silent cries call out unanswered in the night.In a harsh, unforgiving world full of unknowns and desperate longings for safety, I do what I can. I stay alive, stay unseen and stay quiet. It's easier said than done. Especially since I am the ticket to my own self destruction.





	1. The First Cut is the Deepest

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to 'The Silent Prince'! This fic has been on my mind for a while and I've finally decided to share it. It wont be like most other fics, not only as it will be in first person POV but also because it will delve deeply into psychology and what it means to be a human with a conscience. I wont give you more than that as you will learn as we go along but hopefully it will give you a little insight into the beautiful and yet broken character that is Jonathan Morgenstern.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

I take pleasure in the unforgiving cold of the winter air. The burning in my lungs as I race between the cover of flickering street lamps.

This particular spot in Paris always did have a nervous tension at night. Most people keep away. For someone like me, it is a place of endless possibilities. The nervous shaking of a hand, ringing with the sound of dropped coins. The quiet whispers from darkened alleys; the stunning guessing game of hapless victim or lady of ill repute? Shutters being pulled across and the gambling that goes on behind closed doors; the frosted air that twists and knots as I breathe from under my pulled up hood.

I notice the neon blue sign, signalling the location of my next paycheck. The icy cold of the gun burns at my skin from where it is tucked under my coat; digging in with every bitter step.

As I pull my scarf over my nose and step through the door, I order my usual. I sit. And I wait.

I spot him shortly after. He slunk in like the snake he is. The creature all but unnamed to me.

It’s easier in my line of business. The flash of a silver briefcase left here. The hum of a hidden phone left on a seat. Don’t learn about the person and it makes it easier when you have a revolver to the back of their head. A quick in and out. Leave them in a spot where they’ll be found later rather than sooner, and slink back into the shadows.

I can feel the weight of my payout as I creep behind him. Stupid mistake. He should have known by now never to turn his back on me. He got away once and I made a promise to him that he would never be safe as long as I drew breath.

The next few seconds flash by in a blur. There’s a scuffle and a beautifully dispatchable human manages to cross me and empty the content of their glass down my coat. My cover is blown and the man becomes uneasy. He leaves a note on the table, draws up his scarf over his nose and by the time I lift my head, he’s bolted and evaded my capture once again.

I take note of the woman as she rambles apologies and scurries with her head down. She’s obviously desperate for something or she wouldn’t be here this late. I decide to spare her, watching as she crawls back to two scruffy looking children with hollowed eyes. She would be easy enough to dispatch on her way out, both for the sheer pleasure in the moment and in favour of the great injustice she did me... but she’s not my target tonight. I’m a high functioning sociopath, not a psychopath.

I slip out as quietly as I slipped in. I enjoy the hunt. Something in my bones that calls to me. The fast paced, hit of adrenaline at the sound of a body falling in the snow. Of course, I drink myself to oblivion later and wake up in a strange place with a pounding head but I’m no stranger to being in pain.

My name is Jonathan Christopher and tomorrow, I hunt again.

***

Something’s coming. Something dark. I disguise the shaking in my hand as I sip my coffee at one of those tables that never sit flat on the cobbled flagstones. There’s a scent in the air. Sweet and feminine in the summer light. It courses around me as a pretty french girl gives me the eye. I laugh under my breath and go back to the pastry in front of me, carefully flicking my knife against the side and separating each wafer thin layer.

I’m not even remotely interested.

“Votre addition, Monsieur.”

I pick my head up as the tall man with thinning hair walks back to my table. Something deep seated in me cringes when he reaches over me to place my receipt on the table and narrowly avoids touching my shoulder. The man vanishes again and I think for a moment that he would be good in my line of business. If it wasn’t for the fact that his left foot drags ever so slightly, just a quarter of a second behind the other. Plus he has checked his phone three times in the past half hour.

I scoff. A family man with too much to lose. What a waste.

I reach into the pocket that lines my coat. Extra security. I look both ways before pulling the correct change in notes, making sure that no one around is taking any notice. No disappearing reflections in shop windows. No dislodged stones on the pavement.

No glances. No whispers. No problems.

While all those around me are distracted by the various pleasures they allow themselves, I slip the money from my pocket and place it down without a sound. Not even my concealed fingerprints, enclosed by the gloves on my hand, give away my location. This very spot I am standing in has been carefully chosen for the lack of cameras and lack of prying eyes. I would never usually allow myself to be out in this degree of sunlight. I prefer the cover of night and the cool comfort that it brings me, but even I must have my occasional day in the sun, mustn't I?

As the careful muttering carries on around me, I slip the receipt to the side with a single finger. The wind whistles around me and in time with a pigeon’s wing flapping from the square, swipe up the tiny round chocolate underneath. 

One of the only worldly pleasures I allow myself and shamefully, a particular weakness of mine.

I take comfort as the rain starts pattering over the ground. This little suburb is quite exposed and it gives me an excuse to draw my hood up. I smile back at the tables as I draw my coat around me and slip the chocolate from the wrapper. I grin and put it in my mouth, revelling in the taste. I laugh under my breath and as I walk away without looking back, there’s a gorgeous sounding commotion behind me.

Several people rush over to offer their support but It’s far too late for him now. With a slight bounce in my step, I walk out into the rain.

The summer day is beautiful but I’m a busy man. Lots of places to be. Things to tick off my list.

There’s shouting from the square, now in the faint distance.

I’m long gone before his features go still but imagine it in my head with a chuckle under my breath. How the newspaper falls from his metaphorically bloodstained hands. How the side of his face falls with a crash against the table. Only one thing is certain, as my life continues and his comes to its end.

I must go and collect what is owed to me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! If you'd be so kind, please feel free to leave a comment either on here or with the hashtag #PrinceFic <3


	2. Home Sweet Home

It’s a mere two days later when I speak to another person again. The sun is just dipping below the sky as I walk past the main desk with silent acknowledgement. It’s my favourite time of day; when shadows are at their lowest but not the temperatures.

The library is quiet at night. Not many places stay open this late and the woman behind the desk doesn’t mind me here as long as I keep my head down and put my books away after I’m done. She has nothing better to do and maybe she feels safer with someone else here.

“Let’s seee.” I whisper quietly, inhaling the scent of paper and ink. This library is old. Very old. There’s curving stairs that look like the movie posters they advertise around town. I saw one once, with a monster on the cover, that struck me but I have never had the chance, time or money to be able to see one. Not that it bothers me. I have better things to be doing.

Despite the place being so derelict, it’s warm at night and I enjoy sitting for a few hours and staying off the streets. My arms ache and burn as I patrol the aisles, picking out only what is necessary. Some light reading on astrophysics and molecular cooling systems. I should have well finished these sections by now. It’s not good enough.

I taught myself to read but bet I couldn’t find a single thing now that I haven’t covered in this library over the years. I walk slowly back to the table, the burning pain almost unbearable. I actually rather enjoy it. Still, I do not allow my arms to shake or weakness to show on my face as the edges cut into my arms and I slowly stroll back to the table again.

My stomach grumbles slightly and I smooth my hand over my ribs, trying to remember when I last ate something. My head immediately snaps around, worrying that my careless noise has alerted someone that I’m here. I might like the darkness but unfortunately there are others like me who crave the cover of the night. I pull up my backpack silently. It contains nearly all my worldly possessions and it takes me a moment to dig to the bottom and find the last of a pack of cookies that I acquired a few days ago. They’re a little soft but perfectly fine. I’ve made do with less.

It’s when I’m staring into the empty wrapper and dotting up the crumbs from the edges that I hear a footstep from the other side of the library. I have just about enough time to gather up my things when I see two men approaching me. Unfortunately, I know them too well and despite the fact that I’m too agile for them to keep me around for long, I decide to stay on my good measure and lean back in my chair as they circle around me.

“Gentlemen, how fine it is to see you. The kids class is unfortunately not until the morning if you’re looking to finally learn your ABC’s.”

I grin at the bigger guy in the dim light and immediately regret it. Maybe it’s because I haven’t slept enough lately and I’m off my game but the other has crept around me and grabbed the back of my hood before I can get another word out. They don’t scare me as the most they can do is kill me, but my voice still trembles a little on account for my compressed windpipe.

“What do you want? I’ve kept out of your way all week.”

The big guy chuckles as he leans down in front of me.

“I would watch your tone if I were you.” I let out a squeak as something in my shoulder clicks and immediately regret it. Careless. “That’s exactly why we’re here.”

“Missed me have you? Well I’m flattered but guys like you aren’t really my- ow ow ow. Okay, I’m quiet.” I fall with a thump as I’m chucked down in the chair. Forget the warmth. I want to be out of here as quick as I can. “What do you want?”

“Boss has been looking for you.”

I cross my arms and lunge my head forward. The thinner guy jumps backwards, much to the others annoyance, and I grin as I tilt my head with my tongue between my teeth. My face goes slack again and I turn back, putting my hands flat on the table.

“Still doing the grunt work, are you? Well if your boss wanted me badly enough, I’m not that hard to find.” The two men look at each other, hiding sly grins. The point is I am near impossible to find usually and if their boss sent them then it must be for something important. Those of us with higher purpose have better things to be doing and we tend to keep out of each other’s way. I scrape my chair back silently and put my arms behind my head, stretching out my feet with a click of each ankle. My shoes are a little worn and I make a note to try and see if I can get another pair from somewhere.

“Rent has gone up.” I pull my legs back in, looking between the two men.

“You have to be kidding me? Your boss makes more than enough money. A hundred a month for a crowded slum with a mattress on the floor? I’m hardly even there unless it’s raining.”

“Word is officers are doing block by block sweeps at night, picking up anyone they think is trouble. Boss knows you’re the one to go to for information so wants to keep you around a little longer. As for the bed situation, I think you’ll find that while your information is invaluable, your bed space is not and Boss is eager to fill it. Stop by and discuss it tomorrow. Or don't ...but if you don’t then you’re out.” The man clicked his knuckle. “It might be summer now but it won’t stay that way for long. Try finding another place before autumn. Plusss your motives are well known amongst our circle. If you need the money, you are well capable of getting it.” The two men smile at each other and then back to me as if losing my spot wouldn’t be a major detriment to both my health and the low self value that I have. “Stop by and pay a visit. Boss might be well feared in these parts but is awfully fond of you. I don’t see why but you’d be better off staying on good terms.”

***

It’s what I presume to be the early hours of the morning when I head out again. There’s a hot dog vendor on one of the street corners I frequent who likes to chat with me in exchange for giving me a meal. I don’t know why. The street is quiet so maybe he’s lonely and I’m the only person available. I wanted to take one of the library books with me but I don’t trust the people I come into contact with not to go looking through my stuff. I would usually spend hours hating myself when I’m off task and have nothing else to do but the sky is dark and clouded and at least I know this time that I made the right choice. Paying the library back for damaged books is a cost I very well do not need at this moment in time.

“Haven’t seen you in a while.” The man holds his hands up when I offer him my change. I insist with a scowl and he swallows nervously before taking the coins and handing the hot dog over to me. I don’t accept charity. I blink down at the food in my hand. He isn’t always here but this is the only spot that I feel safe to approach someone at this hour. Still, the warmth in my hand is strange as I’m not used to having hot food. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want sympathy for it. My current position and everything I am is because of my own choices, but it’s still unusual all the same. “You’re looking a little thinner than when I last saw you.”

“That’s none of your concern. I look after myself just fine.” The man recoils as I snap and something turns inside me. It’s not like he’s genuinely concerned for me. No one is. But if it makes him feel better to show concern for me then I would be doing him a favour. “Sorry.” I cough and adjust my bag on my back. “I’ll try and take better care of myself.”

The man holds his mouth open and turns to look behind him as if he wants to say something more. By the time he turns back again, I’ve slipped away into the early morning darkness.

I walk for several more miles and my feet begin to ache. I need to stop and rest somewhere but it’s hard to find places to sleep when you have a target on your back. There’s a wanted sign with my face on one of the notice boards I pass and I chuckle at it before carrying on. The word sounds strange on my tongue. “Wannnted.” If I was wanted then I wouldn’t be going where I am right now.

The suburbs are thinning out by the time I find my familiar alley way. I step over broken bottles and growl under my breath at the fact that someone else has been here recently. Probably young men and women with both too much time on their hands and too much money that they feel that have to waste it on alcohol or cheap pills. I enjoy recreational indulgence as much as the next person, I’m not superior to them, but at least the majority of them can count on a flat or a pair of arms to go home to. While they use their substances and cheap drink as a way to slowly kill themselves, I use it as a means to keep myself alive. I know where to get it too, and I’m in desperate need of a pick me up, but I need to get enough money for the boss before going back there.

I sling my bag down in the back corner. There’s enough corrugated roofing that the ground is still dry enough for me to sit. I unwrap the hotdog carefully, taking tiny bites as my stomach growls. There’s a tarp in the corner, covering the spot where I keep my bottles of water and I pull one out from the plastic, taking a sip before putting it down by my side.

“What do you want?” I continue to look down as the sound of pattering gets closer. “Get lost. I paid good money for this.” Eventually I lift my head to take in the scruffy stray in front of me. There’s a nick out of one of his ears which hadn’t been there the last time I’d seen him. Reckless. “What? You been getting in fights again? Come on, you’re better than that.” The stray ignores me as he pants and edges forward. I sigh in annoyance before breaking off a part and chucking it to him. He chokes it down in half a second before whining at me again. “That’s not how I taught you. You eat it slowly so it feels like you have more. This is important stuff. You-” The stray pokes me, his claws digging into my leg. “Can you please not do that?” I take another bite as the dog scratches at his ear. As my paper crinkles, he puts his foot down. There’s only a tiny piece left and he looks at it expectantly.

I raise my arm with a plain expression, throwing it as hard as I can. The dog disappears out of sight and I honestly don’t care if he comes back or not as my company isn’t the reason he’s here. Sometimes I consider finding a bit of old rope and taking him with me, purely out of self defense, but if I did decide to bring it along, I’d not only be obligated to be responsible for it but I’d also have another mouth to feed. Besides, it would be too hard with my missions and daily tasks. I don’t need to be caring for anyone but myself and it only comes back for the food or warmth anyway.

Before it returns, I’ve gathered up my things and covered my remaining bottles back over. They’ll keep for ages provided they are well covered but I am starting to run a little low. It’s a huge task for me to lug a twelve pack across town but I suppose I can make them last for a little while longer if I just drink less.

As I leave quickly, removing traces that I was ever there, I just hope to myself that I don’t end up having to deal with a heatwave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Please leave a comment <3


	3. Drowning Sorrows

The clock that towers the square signals ten past four in the morning by the time I hear the phone ring from under the bench. I’m never anywhere a minute before I need to be and never a minute after. Just as I’ve sat down for a moment, the minute has ticked over and I find it. Concealed in a patch of grass.

“I’m listening.” I speak quietly. There’s hardly anyone around that I can see but I know better than that. The voice has no speech pattern. Prerecorded.

“This is the director speaking. Face the east when the messenger passes.” I barely have enough time to breathe out before the phone clicks and the screen flickers black. I know the deal by now and lean down to search under the bench. There’s a round stone that’s big enough to cause irreparable damage to the small burner phone. My shoulders heave as I hit the stone across the screen, grinning as the object is reduced to dust. I could have sold it but it wouldn’t be worth it for the price. Not as much as I would get for one of my assignments anyway. There’s a small bit of satisfaction in destroying a device that is well capable of ending my life.

Once the phone is smashed to pieces, I pick up three and put them into my pocket. I’ll have to scatter them around later.

The park is still barren as I sit and wait. I watch a spider constructing its web under one of the arms of the bench. It knows where each strand is supposed to go and I note that every fourth turn, it takes a left instead of a right, jumping a row into the middle and ending up exactly where it started. I carelessly allow myself to get carried away for a moment. It’s dangerous. Having enough time to sit and think. I wonder to myself if the spider feels obligated to construct the web in order to catch it’s dinner, meaning that having the meal is the reward or whether it enjoys producing something and the meal is just the by-product. It seems strange for it to be producing anything when it’s the only creature in the worlds existence who will ever benefit from it being made.

I sit for what must be close to another hour. I refuse to look at the clock again as I’m not a slave to the social constructs. As I tilt my head back, trying to restore some blood flow to my shoulders, I see the paper boy in the east.

I spring to action. Sitting still has never been my strong suit and while I will wait for days at a time for signals, nothing beats the sound of my heart rushing in my ears as I follow through the dimly lit park.

Those higher up than me, the ones who call the shots, always have the city's movements down to a T. As I leave the clearing and lean down to watch the messenger checking his rota, another phone vibrates from the leaves that litter the side of the path. I leave the phone to ring twice and put it to my ear.

“I’m willing to make you an offer.”

“I’m listening.”

“You can switch assignments now and get double. The man sitting under the tree.”

“He’s a cop. I can see the badge. Give me the single. He’ll have a gun and I’m not taking the risk.”

“Triple in the next five minutes.”

I pause for a moment. That kind of money could pay my rent for another month.

“Double and you give me ten.”

“I don’t think you realise how this works. You’ve lost your job for the night.”

“Wait-wait-wait. I’ll do it. What are the terms?”

“Take out the cop. That’s your assignment. I’ll be watching and if you’re successful, you’ll find the envelope in it’s usual spot. I’m getting impatient so it’s single pay or nothing.”

The phone clicks again and I growl under my breath. I would never allow myself to be so careless. I don’t usually give into commands with any amount of prompting or manipulation but my employment position is too good to lose and I’m losing the cover of the night so I have to make a move.

I decide to cut around the grass area and take a longer route. I know I’m losing precious minutes but it’s the only way I can carry out this particular plan. Cops are more difficult; poised to retaliate. I silently applaud the man’s hearing as I creep up behind the tree and I know he’s sat forward. The man sitting on the ground is another task but it’s one I can get around. His gun is in the holster on his shoulder and all it takes is a throw of a small stone to his left to get him to stand. The stone skitters over the damp grass and he picks it up cautiously. In a moments notice, there’s a scuffle and I fight the gun into his grip. He has more strength on account for his job and the fact that he receives the correct nutrition but I have no fear and even less to lose. A single shot is fired against his temple and he slumps to the floor. I know it will be only moments before I have company and grab his wallet that he lost during the fight. Adrenaline sings through me like a drug and I grab it before bolting. I don’t know why he was here this early but it’s not important. Too many cops take their lives unexpectedly and he’ll just become another statistic.

I turn on my heel and before I know it, the dew kissed grass is flying in swathes beneath my worn shoes.

The wallet is in my top coat pocket and every beat of my racing heart taps against it; Like a lead weight of a clock, reminding me with each thud how my heart will carry on with the rhythm that will no longer sound in that dead man’s chest.

My steps falter as I run. I know I’m not thinking but I’m frightened. Not of being caught. Of the power that my life holds and the capability to end it just as easily. My own and others.

It’s only as I look up and notice the distinct flash of blue through the trees that I realise I’ve barrelled into something. More specifically someone and it is even more frightening than the darkness that surrounds me. The other person loses their balance and the two of us crash to the ground with a thud. The careless human was staring up at the sky and not looking where they were going.

“I’m sorry.” The other boy laughs from where he sits on the floor with his legs out in front of him. “I was watching the stars. Are you okay?”

I clutch my hand to my top pocket, refusing to glance at the other person. Once I am sure that the wallet is still there and I haven’t been thieved upon, I scramble to find my bearings and carry on in the direction I was planning. It’s far too late, or early, for any sane person to be here alone, I’ve had enough of a fright tonight and while I’m well trained in keeping myself alive, I don’t need to be taking risks tonight by putting my heart on the line.

***

“One fifty as requested.”

The light is low in what I refer to as the “Upper circle.” It’s the small loft space upstairs where the more fortunate can afford to swap hands and cheap alcohol. It’s taken a good few hours to get here, even with my brisk walking and while I’ve brought what has been asked of me, no one there seems to be taking much interest. I like to think it’s because I’m dangerous but I’m not one of them really. They want my pay and not my company.

“You took your time.”

I look down to the floor as a hand is held out to me. Boss doesn’t like direct eye contact and I’ve never asked why. While calm and quiet, those signs in a person are actually warnings in my line of business. One wrong word or one glance can result in igniting a violent temper. If not quelled quickly, that spark can warp into a blazing inferno, destroying everything in its path.

In one motion, I put the money into the bosses hand. “It’s all there.”

“I don’t doubt you.”

I chuckle under my breath as the boss turn away to count it. Call me impulsive but I must have checked it at least twenty times on the way here anyway. I’ve made that mistake before and she terrifies me.

“Seems to be in order.” She waves her hand dismissively. “Shut the door after you.”

A growl peaks from under my breath, not loud enough to hear but loud enough that I feel a rumble in the base of my larynx. “Is that it? Is that all you have to say.”

“Excuse me?” She turns on her heel and I recoil into myself. I should know better.

“It’s just- I thought-”

“You thought what?!” She circles around me like carrion and I clench my fists by my sides. Several heads are directed towards us and the card game from the corner ceases. Several male whispers are cast from unidentifiable locations. I’ve never stopped to wonder why the boss is the only woman in this treacherous place but it’s not difficult to guess. I admire that she’s built her empire here but it doesn’t make me any less fearful of her. Although, despite that, I would never admit that to anyone but myself. She brushes my shoulder. I don’t like light touches. I like certainty wherever possible and as her fingers brush my shoulder, she whispers and I freeze in place. “You think you’re special, Jonathan?” She knows my name? No one knows my name. “What? Because I let you up here, you think you deserve my attention?” I breathe out quietly from my nose. “Let me tell you something.” She looks directly in my face, forcing me to look at her. Her hands are placed on either side of my face and not for the first time today, my heart is thudding in my rib cage. “You’re not special, Jonathan.” My eyes skirt around until her nails dig into my face and I’m forced to look at her. “But you are useful to me…” I know I’m almost cowering in her touch but I’m not weak. I don’t like her so close. Her cheap perfume is in a ribbon around me. I don’t like how she’s eyeing me up like I’m a meal.

“Please just let me go.” My voice shakes. “I don’t know what you want with me.” 

She let’s go of my face and pushes me backwards. I almost fall completely but manage to catch myself in a crouch. I breathe for the first time since I walked in here and she grabs the front of my shirt. “You will.”

She throws me down again and my head hits against the floor. I scramble to my feet, my eyes teary from the dust as I make my way downstairs.

*** 

The floor is crowded. Dirty bodies everywhere, huddled against walls or laying on mattresses with solemn expressions. I need to find a spot. I normally go in a corner so I don't have to watch my back. I hate having to sleep here, preferring to be alone, but for the price and the upcoming bad weather, it seems I don't have much of a choice.

I see an empty spot in a dark corner. My eyes lock on it and it is mine. I need to claim it before anyone else can.

I move quickly through the heaps of mattresses that line the floor. For the price each of us pay, you’d think the living conditions would be better. That’s not the case though and it never will be.

I lift a sheet that is hanging as I rush through, working as a makeshift door. Most of the men who live here don’t bother bringing company and go elsewhere but there’s a few who risk it and they aren’t popular. They usually stick to the lower corridors but I hastily catch the shadow of a woman pulling her shirt off behind one of the screens. I shield my eyes and try not to cringe as I move past. She can do better than him and it’s freezing in this run down place we call home.

I finally reach my corner and chuck my things down. You’d think a corner spot like this would always be taken but there’s a few holes above it, showing glimpses of the rising sunlight. Understandably, it’s uninhabitable when it rains, but it’s okay for now. I’ll be moving out once it gets dark again later tonight.

I sit down on the mattress with a thud, finally allowing my tired muscles to relax, maybe not completely but just enough that I can remain alert and get some rest for the first time in a few days.

Very subtly, I pull a cereal bar and a bottle of water from my bag, inhaling some of both before putting them back again. There’s a nervous tension and people are afraid and desperate. I wouldn’t blame someone for trying to steal food here but it’s kind of an unspoken rule, not recommended. Word spreads quickly and you have to weigh up if a few biscuits or a packet of crisps is worth all those around you losing their trust. It can make life very difficult.

I sit back for a moment, quietly watching the other inhabitants. There’s a few new faces but nothing out of the ordinary. One spot that is always taken is now empty. The guy who used to live there, quite literally, was a nutcase with a bad drinking problem. Either someone finally had enough of his shouting or he finally took it one bottle too far.

Lucky bastard.

I don’t have a blanket because it’s extra to carry so instead, I pull my coat off and wrap it over me. I curl up, closing my eyes for a few minutes and my mind flickers with images from the previous night. After a while, I can feel my hands shaking and accept defeat before making my way over to one of the guys in the middle of the room. His eyes are shut but I know he’s awake. He always is.

“Sam! Psst! Sam!”

His eyes blink open and he grins up at me. “What the fuck you want?! Can’t- Oh, it’s you!”

His expression changes as he tilts his head. He acts all tough but he’s harmless really. Unless you ask him anything he doesn’t want to hear. Then you lose a toe. ‘Stoner Sam’ they call him. I don’t know his name like he doesn’t know mine. Names are privileges here. Dangerous. It’s another way of getting to someone and finding out all their dirt. “Hey, Morgan. What you looking for?” He’s unsettling, I’ll give you that. His eyes are like two black voids. “Powders? Some of our lads raided a med truck. Got a box of hypodermic needles if you’re interested?”

“No, thanks. Same as last time.”

“Looking for a hit, are ya?” He sits up and faces me but he looks like he’s staring through glass. Who knows what he’s actually looking at. “Listen, bud. I like ya so I’ll cut you a deal. I’ll give you three if you tell me…” He looks sideways and runs his tongue over the gap between his teeth. “What’s ya chicks name?”

“Hmm?” I’m not sure I’ve heard him correctly and he flashes his toothy grin.

“You know what I want. Come on, Morgan. What is it? Rumour going round is that you know dirt on everyone. You’re the go-to guy. Seen you go upstairs a few times. You either think you’re better than the rest of us or you’re shacking up with her. Which is it?”

“Ne-neither.” I step back and a few of the guys around us sit up. They’re seeing me as weak so I stand up straighter and hold up my chin defiantly. I’m not better than any of them. There’s as much blood on my hands as theirs and we’re all in the same place, aren’t we?

Sam stands up and closes his eyes for a moment, probably waiting for his blood pressure to stabilise. He stands in front of me and I watch as he holds up a bag, trying not to quiver with how much I want to grab it.

“Fifteen.”

“Fifteen?!”

“Each. We both know your tolerance level so let’s not kid ourselves. You need three to get your fix and only I can give you that, so what’ll it be?”

He knows he’s beaten me. I can’t back out now and my stuff has been left for too long. I reach into the wallet in my pocket. I pull out the correct change and we swap hands without another word.

My hands are shaking and my head hurts as I literally fall back into my corner. I use the last of my water in my bottle, swallowing all three capsules in one, and I lie. And I wait for its sweet relief.

***

_ “Where are we going, Dad?” _

_ I blink across from me and smooth my hands over the car seat. Streaks of light move around me. _

_ “Dad! Where are we going?!” _

_ I turn my head, glancing at the little boy who is howling next to me. He has a white bear in his hand. _

_ The man driving doesn’t answer.  _

_ The little boy is insistent to look behind as the car starts moving and that’s when I see them. _

_ I don’t know who they are or what has happened. All I know is there is a woman with lines next to her eyes and in her arms is a little girl with the same coloured hair. _

_ “Dad! I want to go home!” _

_ *** _

_ “Dad! Talk to me!” _

_ I’m sat at a kitchen table. The room is dim and there’s the sound of traffic from outside. _

_ “Dad! This isn’t fair! You’re never home!” _

_ The boy is around fourteen. His hair is more than grown up than it was before. He wants to cry. But he won’t. I know he won’t. _

_ The boy stands up, banging his hand down as his father grabs the keys. _

_ “No! You WILL listen to me!” _

_ The father simply shakes his head and picks them up, leaving the boy and locking the door. _

_ There’s no light anymore. _

_ *** _

_ I’m in a square. _

_ The boy isn’t a boy any longer. He’s around twenty; staring up miserably. His knee bounces. He’s started taking something from the people he calls his friends. He won’t see them again and doesn’t care. _

_ The clock strikes the hour and he’s looking right at me. No, he’s not looking at me. He’s looking at the seat I’m in. _

_ I sit with him. A half hour. One hour. Two hours. Wishing he could hear me because I’m the only person who will ever understand how alone he is. How he was promised. Promised by his father when he told the young man that he would make it up to him. That he would be there for him. _

_ I know the exact minute he’s going to get up and when he does, he wipes his face and something snaps. He dries his eyes, going where I can’t follow. Off and into the night. _

_ And he makes sure he never, ever cries for that man again. _

_ *** _

My head hurts as I start coming around.

The first thing I realise is that the wallet is in my hand. My hand is slick and I’m sweating. I’m shivering. I flick the wallet open, hoping for some lost answer. Or a reason to live. I’m not sure which.

Instead, I see a photo of a little girl staring back at me. There’s stars above my head and I can hear the screams. She’s going to sleep for the first time without a father.

I did that to her.

I know what that feels like and she didn’t get the choice.

I put my arms over my head and draw my knees up. My shoulders are shaking and I resist the urge to bash my head against the wall.

The room sways as I stand. Most people are asleep and don’t notice as I kick the mattress over. There’s a cut along the edging and I stick my hand in, enclosing my fingers around the neck of a bottle. It’s unopened. Crystal clear. Beautiful.

I kick my bag into the corner. I don’t care about my stuff any more. I don’t care about anything. Especially not myself.

My pent up energy explodes from me as I run. I don’t know what direction I’m running in but I know where I’ll end up. Cars screech as I shoot across roads, taking seconds at a time to throw more of the burning liquid down my throat.

It’s strange. The lighter the bottle gets, the heavier I feel.

Even with the ground dipping under me, I know when I reached the right spot. There’s an embankment and I climb up, grabbing fistfuls of damp grass. I used to wait under here. It was the place where we’d always meet if we got separated when I was a child. I remember the hollow burning in my legs as I’d sit for hours, wondering if this time- this time- would be the one where he’d finally stop coming back for me. I’m not sitting under it now, cowering like a child. I stand on top, looking down at the water that flows below.

It’s so quiet here. Long gone are the days when families would sit on the grass nearby. They’re probably broken up now, grown up, forgotten about.

I stand up on the railing, watching as the water ebbs and flows. I remember when I was a child and Dad threw the in the only photograph I ever owned. I cried for my sister that day. Cried for everything I had lost and everything I would never be.

I look down once more, leaning over the edge. The bitter wind of nighttime digs into my skin as I stare at the icy depths below.

As I child, I would have felt terrified at the prospect of being alone; But time warps us into something different. Something we can’t even fathom as we play with our building blocks or our dolls or our kites.

No one will be here for hours.

He would have cried once; that little boy in the cold. He would have howled and hollered and screamed for someone to be with him.

But that little boy’s not me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading <3 Please leave a comment


End file.
